Flower enlightenment
Shao Wei
As a child, the entire company compound was a bungalow. There are flowers from the office to the front of each house. There are those planted directly on the ground, and there are those planted under the eaves or in flower pots. The hometown is located in the Luzhong MountainOus District, surrounded by mountains on three sides, and the frost-free period of the small mountain city is relatively long. From the beginning of spring to the arrival of the cold of winter, the days in the compound are never short of floral fragrance.
In the summer, the moon rises, the earth dissipates the heat of the sun, and the neighboring ones will pull a rubber pipe together to connect the faucets in the courtyard to water the flowers. On this side of the north dormitory, Dad watered the flowers most carefully, he pinched the head of the pipe with his fingers, so that the water flow became soothing and delicate, he could hear the "Zla" sound when the soil absorbed the water, and the nose was full of earthy fragrance. This is the most refreshing moment, the flowers, flowers, and even the grass in the yard will emit breath, the leaves of the day will drink enough water to stand up, and the people who have worked hard all day have eaten dinner, carrying small benches, lifting out small cold beds, and gathering in the courtyard. My mother used to say, "Flowers are the façade of a home, and it is allegorical to grow well and bloom well." "Occasionally, neighbors quarrel, kick over benches, smash teacups, and don't go to people's flower pots. No matter how naughty the children in the courtyard are, they will be taught by adults not to pick flowers and destroy leaves.
Around the Spring Festival, the first pot of blooming spring flowers will welcome flower admirers throughout the yard, which seems to be a customary etiquette. The host boiled white water on the stove and brewed fragrant tea to invite everyone to sit in front of the flowers and chat about some auspicious words of blessing. Since then, I have felt that the spring flower is very grand, and the pot prepared for it is also the most decent in the family. Everyone seems to be willing to compete for this jackpot, and it is extremely dedicated to raising spring flowers. I remember that one uncle of the family raised the best, and when it was cold, he covered the tall flowers with white transparent plastic sheets and moved them to a ventilated and sunny place, and the distance between the stove and the flowers at home would be carefully adjusted. For many years, his family's spring flowers always came out on top. The sturdy medium wire circled three hoops, wrapped around the bamboo branches erected straight against the edges of the pots, layering the branches, and on the hanging branches, strings of yellow flowers emerged, and the whole branch was made of gold. We children also have a competitive spirit, and have won the championship with their mother several times. Mother always smiled and ignored it. Because my family has two very courteous little toon trees, always in a good position, always enjoying careful care. In the era when there was no heating and no anti-seasonal greenhouse dishes, on Chinese New Year's Eve nights, it was possible to add fresh toon sprouts into the dish, which made many housewives envious of this delicacy. Cultivating toon buds is one of her mother's best skills, and she can accurately make the two toon trees grow in pots every year to grow new shoots before Chinese New Year's Eve meal. Later, the mother soaked the egg skin, broken bones, etc. into a large bottle, and for an autumn, fertilized the spring flower three times before it was moved into the house, and gave it the excellent position of the toon tree. Finally, that year, the first spring flower in my family was two days earlier than Uncle's. Since then, my mother has been dominated by toon trees, and we have been enjoying the delicious dish of Chinese New Year's Eve Rice Boshan Spring Rolls and Tofu Box!
It was warm, and Jasmine gradually became the protagonist of the compound. "To the moon is clear, the wind is cool." This is a poem that my sister taught me in the summer when I was 6 years old, facing Jasmine. I know that maybe the flower lovers in the compound never knew that there were two sentences, but it did not hinder their love of flowers. There is no TV at home, and everyone's entertainment is to relax around the flowers to put down the burden of the day, or to release a dream in the fragrance of flowers. There must be a space in their state of mind that runs parallel to the poetry, and in the natural appeal of the flowers, they do not say, "Just go over, you don't have to stay and pick the flowers to preserve, because along the way, the flowers will continue to bloom." "But they will say: the flowers will bloom when they are gone, and the children will grow up with the flowers blooming and falling." In the breeze of the summer night, there is always the fragrance of jasmine flowers that accompanies the dream. Adults are reluctant to pick them at night, and only allow children to pick one or two flowers and put them on their pillows. When dawn comes, it will be picked up early when the flowers are not yet in a decadent state and put into the tea pot. No matter how cheap the tea leaves, they will become a veritable jasmine tea in this summer. When the moon had just shown its face on the red tiled courtyard wall, another stubble of small white flowers opened one after another. Until around the Mid-Autumn Festival, after the last flower blooms, the family will begin to prune and add nutrition to the flowers, looking forward to the prosperity of the coming year. And this love of flowers also made me lose a childhood friendship. An uncle said: Jasmine likes to drink milk. Milk was precious at that time, and there were country cattle keepers who rode their bicycles in the morning and shouted and sold raw milk. Bought it and needed to cook it myself. My mother had an idea, and every day she poured water from the milk pot into the pot and watched as the leaves of the jasmine flowers gradually shined and turned dark green. One day, at my friend's house to see her mother's flowers in the yard, I told her like a treasure: Jasmine likes to drink milk. Her mother heard this, slammed the curtain into the house, and called her in. After a while she came out and said: My mother does not want me to play with my lying classmates. I nodded vigorously in agreement. She said again: Don't send you, go home and write your homework. I felt something was wrong, couldn't say anything, and walked away sadly. And she's never been a good friend to me anymore.
In the compound, the separation between the office area and the south dormitory area, there is a white lilac tree and a Guanyin willow tree. Next to these two trees is a plate of stone mills. Another stone mill in the compound is installed on a cement floor in the southwest corner, according to the eyes of children, the plate of grinding on the cement floor is better to push up, the road surface is flat, there is no obstruction on all sides, and it is convenient to greet people who come and go. However, the plate by the tree was extremely popular. Whenever the flowers bloom, the people who push the mill line up until the second half of the night, where the red bricks laid on the mill road are upturned, where they are uneven, someone will fix it immediately. The grinding on the cement floor, according to the adults, is because the grinding plate is light and the grinding pancake paste is not fine. Now that I think about it, the two disc mills may not really be much different.
Outside the compound, there are two rows of plane trees that four or five children can't hold together on both sides of the road, and when the purple flowers of the plane trees bloom, the desk under the street window in the house becomes a "treasure land" for the three of us brothers and sisters to take turns to compete. Although the desk is often covered with dust raised by the car, there is often a noise on the road that affects the writing of homework. Later, he moved to the south dormitory area, left the poorly ventilated West House, and lived in a warm south house. Opposite the south house, there is a ailanthus tree at the end of a row of kitchens, and as soon as it blooms, many neighbors run to the street lamp in the north dormitory area after dinner to pull the home. I wonder why I still love this floral fragrance. On closer examination, maybe it is because when I was 8 years old, I secretly read "Dream of the Red Chamber" that my mother did not hide under the Ailanthus tree. At that time, it was the season of Ailanthus blossoms, and during the lunch break, I moved two small stools, one high and one low, and sat under the tree, holding a dictionary in one hand and turning the pages in the other. I was not afraid of the defendant's hair, my mother had to come home at 2:30 p.m. in the morning, and my father was the director of the technical factory at that time, and he was on the construction site of the branch almost every day. My brother and sister hated the smell of flowers and wouldn't look for me under the tree. It can be said that it was this unpleasant flower fragrance that covered me, let me know Sister Lin and Sister Bao, memorized the "Good Song", and was sad in "Hantang Crane Shadow, Cold Moon Burial Flower Soul", although it was read roughly like a date for the first time, but it became a fan of the Red Chamber in the future.
Xu is a continuation of the inheritance of the compound, and I have always loved flowers. All the places in the house where flowers can be placed are stuffed. The few flowers I love can also be associated with the courtyard of my childhood. I have four large pots of jasmine flowers, one of which is nearly 30 years old. Crab claw orchids used to be the only decoration on my desk in my childhood. Dahlia used to be a beauty under the eaves. In front of the camellia and gardenia, it seems to have the most patient appearance of his brother, and before the spring flower, it seems that there is still a father moving around to help it find a warm busy figure.
There is always the appearance of the mother taking a small flower shear, looking at the flower branches, and carefully pruning them. I remember she told me that you can be "rough" with the crab claw orchid, and when it is finished, you must trim the flowered knots, and only keep two pieces. At that time, seeing that she had cut it so badly, he painfully took her hand and begged her to keep more pieces. My mother always smiled and said: If you want to see flowers next year, you have to start early this year. Sure enough, next year the flowers bloomed brightly again. Later, she inserted the leaves into two cacti and made beautiful wire supports for the flowers. Over the years, the grafted ones grew into "flower trees" and the ones that were constantly pruned became "flower balls".
I like to hold my husband's hand and wander under the flowering Ailanthus trees in the quiet of the night. Looking at the hazy tree shadows in the moonlight, I always have a string of traditional characters in my mind, which are the imprints left on me by the version of "Dream of the Red Chamber" that I have read, relying on the smell to help me present many scenes from the age of 8. It's a memory I don't give up.
The compound was lost with time, and many people left. I am willing to strip away the reality and believe that everything lives in the flowers. The fragrance of the ancient flowers is always overhead, like a fishing fire, swaying through the river of time, swaying the day and the realization of the day layer by layer!
About author:Shao Wei, female. Pen names: Moon Shift Flower Shadow, Yiyi, etc. Chairman of boshan district writers association. Departments: Member of Shandong Writers Association, Member of Chinese Poetry Society, Member of Provincial Poetry Society, Deputy Secretary-General of Zibo Writers Association, Director of Municipal Literary and Art Critics Association, Vice Chairman of Municipal Poetry Society, Vice Chairman of Municipal Young Writers Association, Member of Municipal Poetry Society, Vice President of District Poetry Society. He was awarded the honorary title of The 8th Zibo Literature and Art Circle, the representative of the 14th Women's Congress of Boshan District, and the standing director of the 3rd New Federation of The District. He has published more than 1.9 million words of various works at home and abroad. Novels, essays, poems, and lyrics have won gold and silver awards at the national and provincial levels, respectively. He is the author of three anthologies, all of which have won municipal and district government literary and artistic awards.
One Point No. Scroll Wenyuan